NAROTICA

Thursday, November 12, 2009

Jazz was in a funk. She was angry. She was frustrated. She was confused. Ever since the encounter with Mason left her hanging, she hadn't been her normal self. It had been years since another person, a man, had this type of affect on her. All of the emotions she was feeling just left her uneasy about the simple things in life. She couldn't eat. Her job performance wasn't up to par. She tried to drink her feelings away, but, for some reason, unbeknownst to her, she couldn't shake the thought of Mason. She even talked about the encounter with her closest girlfriend Dee, who offered the best advice she could. Girl, just get over it. You'll never see him again. If he wanted to know more about you than he would not have left you hanging. Jazz reluctantly agreed with Dee, trying to convince herself that she was right. But, deep down, Jazz knew there was more. She just didn't know what.

There were times in Jazz's life that she was pretty much a loner. Eating alone, going out alone, living alone. However, recently Jazz had been hanging around her closest girlfriends quite often. She did this to keep her mind from wandering, thinking about Mason. Her mother always told her that when you've got something on your mind that you just can't shake, your good girlfriends are the perfect antidote. They keep you laughing, smiling, fed, and there's always liquor involved. Jazz had six close girlfriends, one living in Georgia.

It was Halloween night and Jazz, Dee, Kelly, and Shannon decided to go out. None of them were particularly interested in dressing for the occasion, however, they thought it would be fun to watch everyone else in their costumes. They headed to an area of downtown called Middle Peak. Middle Peak is an area that catered to the upper-middle class yuppies. They went to this area because it was always live, fun, and cheap. They saw all kinds of costumes down there. A couple dressed as matching robots made out of boxes, a man with a shirt that said "sperm bank" with an arrow pointing to his penis. Fred and Wilma were out, as well as Barney and Betty. The most odd but welcoming thing about this area was the crowd control. Everyone came out in peace, to have a good time. They were even supplied with Port-a-Pottys. That's something you'd never get in the hood.

After the girls found a parking spot, they made their way through the crowd to a lounge bar called Jonathan Roberts, or JR's. It was a small lounge with over-priced drinks, a mixed crowd of young and old hood rats with jobs fronting like they have money, chics out looking for their next sugar daddy, and people just there to observe. Jazz was there just to have fun with her girlfriends and have a couple of drinks. She wasn't too big on dancing so she had a few drinks and just sat and observed the crowd. There were a couple of young girls in there who had one too many drinks and were oblivious to the show they created. Jazz instantly felt like an old lady after seeing these two girls. She wanted to snatch them by their fake hair and scold them like their mother, telling them to behave like ladies and to put some clothes on because that dimply ass that was hanging out for the world to see was not cute. But, Jazz just kept her thoughts to herself, shaking her head, drinking the last of her apple tuaca bomb.

Jazz was bobbing her head to the song blaring on the speakers, "Before I Let Go," when she turned her head in the direction of the front door...she sat frozen, her heart skipping three beats. Mason walked in with two other tall men. He was smiling his beautiful, brilliant smile, walking with a stride that was made only for him. His bald head reflected in the dull light of the bar, enhancing his good looks he must have inherited from his Father. Mason was gorgeous, inviting, sinful. Jazz immediately felt a shot from her spine to her pink kitty, sitting up to ride it out. Mason had no clue she was there, but he would soon find out.

Mason stood at the bar ordering drinks for him and his friends. Jazz got up from the couch she was sitting on, adjusted her clothes, and made her way to the bar herself. Before she left she asked the girls what they wanted from the bar to save them a trip. The bar was a little crowded, but Jazz found a spot a few chairs down from Mason. After she ordered her drinks, she waited a minute or two, then turned to walk away when she felt a hand around her arm. She turned around and it was Mason. She hesitated, took a deep breath. Mason, how are you, she said. Mason flashed that amazing smile of his and asked her the same, each one of them looking into the others eyes as if to say, I miss you, I want you. Mason took Jazz's free hand into his, squeezed...holding on.

Jazz melted instantly. She couldn't even hide it. This incredible man finally stepped back into her world, something she'd been waiting for...impatiently. She knew, at that moment, she'll never let him go. She hardly knew this man, but something in the back of her mind, she knew he was her soul mate, she knew he was supposed to belong to her. Temperature's rising, and Jazz found it very hard to keep her composure. They stood there admiring each other, unaware of their surroundings. They knew there was something between them, something genuine, something real. They both placed their glasses on the bar, still hand in hand, and walked out of the bar into the night. The darkness was theirs, they owned it...Jazz and Mason. Until next time....

Wednesday, September 30, 2009

There was only one thing Jazz loved more than sex. It was money. She loved the smell of money, the way it felt on her hands, the dull, green color, and most of all, she loves that it does what she wants it do...whatever she wants. Jazz was successful, educated, and financially stable...a businesswoman. She earned her Bachelor's degree in Public Relations with a Master's in Healthcare Administration. These two degrees allowed Jazz the opportunity and freedom to work in any field of her choice. Jazz was also very respected amongst her peers, often being pushed to start her own business, but Jazz enjoyed her current 9-5. She currently worked for the City School System as an Associate Director for Human Resources, and she absolutely loved it. Although Jazz considered herself a loner, she got along great with everyone she met, she had a wonderful, warm personality, and everyone was drawn to her. Her greatest joy in her occupation was knowing, at the end of the day, she made a difference in someones life.

Part of Jazz's duties as Director was to coordinate open houses for potential employees. Whether they were recent college graduates, people re-entering the workforce, or those seeking other employment, there was something for everyone. From entry-level positions, to executive appointments, Jazz was in charge of it all. Her latest endeavor with the City School System was an event she was proud to call, "Reach For the Stars, The Sky's the Limit." This event had on-site interviews, resume workshops, recruiters from all over the state. It even had a booth that housed a professional stylist to show what to wear and what not to wear on a potential interview. Jazz smiled to herself and just took in all of the bustling and movement taking place. She did a wonderful job putting everything together, and she knew she would be praised for her accomplishments.

Jazz strolled around the room, making sure everything was in its place, offering any advice to any questions asked of her, when she came across the booth for Institution Modern, a year-round school for students in need of exclusive attention. She slowed down, almost coming to a complete stop. She had to catch her breath. She placed her hand on her chest...heart was beating like a hammer. What she saw before her, what stood in her path, was something...someone most women would take their last breath for. He was the most handsome man she'd ever laid her almond-shaped eyes on, and she'd seen plenty.

He didn't notice her at first, and she couldn't take her eyes off of him. He was tall, maybe 6'4, with a medium build. He had on a cream-colored button-down shirt and a tie with black and cream mixed in. The square, black-framed glasses he wore made him appear studious and confident. He stood with his toes pointing inward, he's pigeon-toed, Jazz thought to herself. His head was bald and shiny. Jazz was a sucker for bald heads, and this mystery man wore it very well. He still hadn't noticed her because he was in the middle of a conversation with potentials. He laughed a little, and Jazz was able to see his radiant smile, his perfect lips, and teeth that must have cost a fortune. He was beautiful, and Jazz wanted him.

She stood in the same spot for a few more moments, acting as if she were observing the goings on in the room, really waiting for the instant where she could swoop in and make her presence known to Mr. Beautiful. If Jazz knew the woman she was, she knew she would have this man. The potentials walked away, and Jazz made her way over to the booth. His back to her, he turned around, saw Jazz and hesitated before he spoke. Jazz was now standing in front of him. "Institution Modern," she said, "is one of the best schools in the city. You must be proud of your students." He eyed her, up and down, head to toe. Of course Jazz was dressed in her best, as always. Everything she wore accentuated her curves. Before he could respond, "Jazz, and you are?" "Mason," he said with a smile.

Jazz and Mason instantly had a connection. They walked around the venue talking about the event, the possibilities, improvements for the next event, and so on. They talked so much, totally oblivious to their surroundings, that they ended up in the hallway outside of the room where the event was being held. Once they realized where they were, they stopped walking. They stood next to each other in silence, each one taking the other in, both feeling a magic between them, one that caused them to reach for one another in an embrace meant for two old lovers. Their lips touched, and immediately Jazz felt her body give in to this man. This kiss was slow, deliberate...seamless. Mason had one hand on her chin and the other hand caressed her derriere. Jazz melted...trying...forcing herself to hold back her buzz of delight. Her center swelled and dripped with anticipation. They kissed for what seemed like forever, until Mason pulled his head back and gazed at her, his eyebrows furrowed, as if in deep concentration. He looked at her like she was his woman, his soul, his heart. Everything Jazz was feeling at this moment was everything she vowed herself to never feel again. But she wanted him, there was something about this creature that left her in awe; she knew he was amazing. But, instead of Jazz getting what she usually wants, and gets, Mason walked away. He left her standing there, cold and alone. The second he walked away, Jazz wanted to scream. This shit just did not happen to her...EVER. Until next time...

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Jazz was on edge. She was uneasy. Uncomfortable. She felt a bit awkward. It wasn't anything that she did, obviously, but she just couldn't understand. She couldn't understand why, after the session in the bar bathroom with the woman whose name she didn't care to know, why the nameless woman ran out of the bathroom, as if in a frenzy, like she lost something very near and dear to her, like she had to find it. Jazz walked out of that bathroom and didn't look back. But, she could see out of the corner of her hazy eyes, that this woman was in a hurry. Jazz already knew what she was running for. She wanted Jazz. She wanted to know Jazz's name. She wanted to know who Jazz was, why she chose her and left her cold and alone in the bathroom without a word...with nothing but her thoughts.

Jazz didn't have time for it. She had no time in her mind, in her soul, in her body, in her thoughts for such confusion, complication. Why do people, these victims, feel the need to reach out to Jazz for more than just Biblical satisfaction? The closer you get to someone, the more you allow them to come near your heart, the more your heart stings, the more you start to loathe this person because all they're going to do is trample on and crush your feelings as if they never took in a breath of air, not at all...alive. Jazz treats these victims the same way love has treated her, like they don't matter. All of the love Jazz gave to those who were undeserving of all she had to offer were ungrateful, selfish, uncaring...SELF-ABSORBED. Even after all she's been through, Jazz doesn't feel like she's a woman scorned, but as an opportunist. If she's able to recognize a situation where she knows she'll trump every player involved, and everyone in the end is pleased, especially her, she knocks on the door.

This awkwardness Jazz is feeling at this moment brought flashbacks to her. This wasn't the first time Jazz felt this way. It wasn't her, she thought, it's everybody else. They just don't understand, and she didn't have time to try and explain it, nor did she want to. Let them figure the shit out on their own. What Jazz has is a gift and a curse. She's very charming, everyone likes her, men and women. She gets along with everyone, there was seldom someone who did not flock to her side. Those who weren't fond of her were the jealous ones, she knew. Such was the case with Dr. Kim Patterson. She was, at one point in time, Jazz's "pocketbook" doctor, as Jazz liked to call her.

Jazz had been going to Dr. Patterson for some time. Regular annual appointments, any problems Jazz had, birth control. She even delivered the shocking news of Jazz's unexpected pregnancy. Dr. Patterson was a very attractive woman, wide hips, round behind, chocolate skin, round eyes. Jazz was always attracted to her, but never made a move on her. Not all women are fond of women they way Jazz is. But it was this one particular day when Jazz had the surprise of a lifetime.

Jazz was sitting back on the exam table, legs dangling over the side, white sheet draped over her middle, waiting for the doctor. When she entered, she gave her usual smile and hello to Jazz. Dr. Patterson sat on the small chair with the wheels and instructed Jazz to place her feet in the stirrups for her exam. Jazz did so. Dr. Patterson grabbed the exam gloves to wear on her hands, but when her finger entered Jazz, it felt like a regular finger, no plastic...nothing. Dr. Patterson's finger reached all the way to Jazz's g-spot and tickled it, she pulled on it as if attempting to cause chism on the exam table. Jazz was frozen. It was quite enjoyable but it took her by surprise, so she didn't know whether to let it happen or interrupt. Still, Dr. Patterson said nothing. Jazz said nothing. The only sounds in the room were heavy breathing. They were both breathing very heavy.

Jazz decided to let the doctor have her way. After all, they would both get what they want, the taste of a woman and a satisfied appetite for the moment. The doctor's finger stayed inside of Eve's flesh, she felt her tongue. She was performing french tricks, producing mouth-music, and it was beautiful. Jazz slowly formed a river that flowed from the center of bliss. She sighed in amazement. The doctor got up from her chair and looked at Jazz with disdain, as if Jazz wronged her in some way. I'm in love with you, Jazz, the doctor said. Jazz quickly sat up and gawked at the doctor, shocked and confused. You never noticed me, Dr. Patterson said. You never tried to approach me and I've been in love with you since I laid eyes on you 3 years ago. You never said a word. Every time you walked into this office I didn't have the courage to do or say anything until this day. I had to seize the moment, overcome my fear of rejection. This was news to Jazz, who had no clue what this woman was talking about. Could she be mistaken, could she be referring to someone else, Jazz thought. Whatever the case may be, Jazz knew she had to get out of that room. She began to feel closed in, as if in a box.

Dr. Patterson, she said, I really don't know what you're talking about, but I'm getting dressed and out of this room. If you had or have feelings for me then you should have kept them to yourself. I'm not in the business of feelings, I'm in the business of getting what I want, and being responsible for someone else's feelings is not something I want. These words brought tears to the doctors eyes, and Jazz could care less. Jazz knew what she said was hurtful, but she didn't care. Why should I care, she thought. She got what she wanted, why is she so upset. Jazz will never understand...oh well...until next time

Saturday, September 19, 2009

It had been several years since Jazz and Angela's secret rendezvous. She felt, in a way, that she had a deep, unexplainable love for Angela, and it wasn't reciprocated. Since then she thought very often about women, most of the time staring and allowing her mind to wander as they walked past her, admiring the view. But her thoughts quickly turned to anger and frustration. Angry because love always had a sinister way of creeping up on her when she least expected it, embracing it, only to have it slap her in the face, knock her down, crawling on her knees, helpless...hurt...ashamed. Frustrated because she considered herself unworthy of unconditional love. All of the love she gave in the past left her with a sour taste in her mouth. Who needs love, she thought. I can damn sure do bad by myself. I don't need another motherfucker trying to punch more holes in my heart.

For all of these reasons, Jazz has retreated into herself. She refuses to let anyone else in. She would rather have a one night stand then waste her time with feelings. That's how people get caught up, and hurt. Since her relationship with Jeremiah ended almost 2 years ago, and communication with Angela ceased, she vowed to never let anyone else close to her heart. Her heart is fragile, liable to crack at any moment. So instead of looking for love, Jazz has "victims." Victims are the men and women she preys upon, for her own sexual satisfaction. Jazz has an insatiable sexual appetite, and it needs to be fed from time to time. Of course, she can please herself in many ways, but sometimes her cravings are for things she can't do for herself, so she seeks, she finds, she seduces...she gets what she wants.

Jazz is a loner. She goes out alone, shops alone, eats alone, sleeps alone. Of course, she has friends, but they don't know anything about her cravings, or her extracurricular activities. They would most likely label her crazy. On this particular night, Jazz was dressed in silver stilletto sandals, black capri pants, and a white, very fitting shirt that not only showed off her figure 8, but accentuated her bosom in such a way that you had no choice but to lick your lips upon first glance. She stood in front of her mirror admiring herself. With just the right touch of make-up, Jazz knew she looked good. She was tired of sitting in the house, so she decided to go out to see what trouble she could get into.

Jazz stepped into the night air and just started walking. Since she lived in the city, it wasn't necessary for her to drive all the time. She did own a vehicle, however, she preferred to walk to avoid parking fees. Plus, walking allowed her to clear her mind, adopt positive thoughts...focus. After walking a few blocks, Jazz came across a bar she never noticed before. "Entice" it was called, nbright red neon lights. Just the name alone made her curious, so she stepped inside. It was a nicely decorated spot, a plush bar on one side and a lounge area with couches and tables on the other. The DJ was playing a mix of smooth R&B and jazz music, very soothing and relaxing. Once Jazz sat at the bar she ordered her favorite spirit, a french martini.

One of the first things Jazz noticed upon entering the bar were the patrons. There was an even mix of men and women, and even a lesser mix of attractive men and women. There were alot of short men in there, and Jazz learned, from her own experience, that short men just didn't have what it takes. They're just handicapped and they don't know it, Jazz realized. No more short men for her. The other men in the place just looked like they wanted to get away from their annoying, unsatisfying wives for the night. What's worse than a man who wants to get away from his wife, she thought. The institution of marriage is something Jazz will never understand, either spouse ends up cheating anyway. Jazz's eyes scanned the room, until they landed on a pair of black stillettos attached to these beautiful stems. Her legs were crossed, but Jazz could tell how winding they were, how strong they were, and she instantly wanted to kiss and lick them. Her eyes made their way up further, past the ample bosom, the long neck, the full, pouty lips colored in red, to the doe eyes resting on a caramel complexion. Wow, this woman is beautiful. As if on cue, the woman turned her head and looked directly at Jazz, who was by now staring at this woman. The woman looked away, grabbed her purse, stood up...started walking in Jazz's direction, all the while not breaking the gaze, and walked into the ladies room. Jazz followed her.

When Jazz entered the bathroom, her victim was standing in front of the mirror fixing herself. Their eyes met. Neither one of them breathed a word, just stared. Jazz slowly made her way to her victim, stood behind her, lips a hair away from her neck...breathed. The woman moaned a little. Jazz slowly and gently traced her hands along the womans side, to her breasts...squeezed...now kissing her neck, her tongue, grazing her ears, pelvis grinding into the womans derriere...they melted into each other. The woman turned around and placed her lips on Jazz's, sucking with enough pull to send a shock to Jazz's tiny mound...heaven. They stood there and kissed for what seemed a lifetime, each second creating a moist pocket in Jazz's center. The woman had on a short skirt...easy access. Jazz placed her hand in between the womans leg and felt the juicy peach the woman was offering her. They both moaned. It had been so long since Jazz was with a woman, she was overwhelmed at this moment. Jazz lifted the woman onto the sink, her legs straddling Jazz's waist. They grinded into each other more, each pulse more intense then the previous, heavy breathing, cries of anticipated pleasure. Jazz unbuttoned the womans shirt, taking a moment to admire those two globes staring at her. They were beautiful. She took one in her hand and sucked, gently, enough to make the woman grab Jazz by the back of her neck. While Jazz was suckling and caressing these breasts, the other hand was working the middle, with movements she knew all too well. She knows how to please a woman, its like riding a bike. She stuck her finger into the black hole and reached the g-spot...the woman almost screamed, begging her not to stop. Jazz worked her until she creamed on her finger, which turned Jazz on even more. She couldn't take it anymore, so Jazz dove deep into that canal and fed herself what she'd been missing.

It was moist, wet, like an ocean wave crashing on the beach. It was sweet, juicy, sang a melodius tune and Jazz played the harmony. Jazz was in paradise, eating the forbidden fruit of Adam and Eve, only she wasn't going to hell for it. Jazz had an itch in her belly and this woman gave her permission to scratch it. Her pussy tasted wonderful, it was on fire. Jazz licked and sucked on this pussy like a dog drinking water from a bowl. The woman found it very hard to keep her composure. Suck my pussy...suck my pussy she shouted. She pushed Jazz's head further into her pussy and her hips rotated to Jazz's tongue. The white honey Jazz awaited flooded her mouth, the woman crying out in complete joy. This session was now over. Jazz got up, fixed her herself, and walked out of the bathroom. It was a coincidence that no one walked in; even if they did...oh well, they would have gotten an eyeful. Jazz left her victim in the bathroom, cold, and alone. Until next time....

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Jazz is a beautiful woman. Every mans dream. Smooth, flawless chocolate espresso skin, soft as a baby's bottom. Almond-shaped eyes, eyes that secretly weep on the inside of her soul waiting for love to knock on her door. Ample lips, perfect for sucking, licking, forever a favorite of her male "victims," as she likes to call them, boasting a killer smile. Her legs, long and winding, are reminiscent of that wall in China; they go on for days, never-ending, athletic, one of her best and proudest assets. Her generous bosom is just enough to feed the hungry, giving them a mouthful every time. The short, black hair cut she wore gained her stares from men and women alike. Every time she walked into a room, dressed to kill from head to toe, it was like she was making a grand entrance, all eyes on her, anticipating her next move.

Jazz knows she is an attractive woman. In fact, there have been times when she has used her appeal to her benefit. There was the time in the auto shop when she thought she was being overcharged. She flashed them her beautiful smile, turned on her unrivaled sexuality and convinced them to charge her only half of the original charge. These men are so brainless, she thought. In the end she prevailed, it never fails.

Jazz often believes her beauty is a blessing and a curse. For some reason, she has been unable to sustain a healthy romantic relationship with a man. Could it be that these men are intimidated by her fierce appetite for complete sexual satisfaction, or realize that there is more to her than a pretty face and great sex? Whichever one it is, Jazz has no time to figure it out. Her past relationships have left her with a sour taste in her mouth regarding the subject of love. There was only one man in her life that came close to fulfilling her needs, emotionally, sexually, and mentally, but he's out of her life now.

Jeremiah was a handsome man. He and Jazz were together for almost 12 years. But, he just didn't treat her right, and she knew it. The best part of their relationship was the sex, but even that became boring after a while. Jeremiah was the one who enabled Jazz to open up her mind to other avenues of sexual adventure, with women and men. Jazz had her first encounter with a woman while with Jeremiah. It was at that moment that Jazz realized how attracted to women she had always been, and she enjoyed it very much.

Her name was Angela. She wasn't the prettiest woman Jazz had seen before, but she had wonderful assets. Her bosom was plentiful, enough to feed an entire army. That was really the best part of her, other than being a good friend. She and Jazz shared a mutual love for Jeremiah, and this reality made it easier for them to share him with one another. Their first encounter as a threesome was an experience for all of them. Nervous, excited, scared, were all the emotions shared by all, however, that made it all the more exciting. Angela and Jazz started kissing first, which surprised Jeremiah, sending him diving deep into Angela's divine scar, more moist than usual with all the new-found excitement. Jazz maneuvered her body so that her warm mouth could take Jeremiah in. She took him in slowly, he moaned, her head went up and down his shaft slowly, leaving traces of saliva with every stroke of her head. She stopped at the tip, ran circles around it with her tongue, and sucked. He groaned. The only sounds in the room at this moment was Angelas heavy breathing and quiet whimpers of bliss, Jazz's oral service on Jeremiah, and Jeremiah's growling. It was a beautiful sight. The camera they set up was rolling and they performed as if getting ready for distribution.

Jeremiah came up for air and made his way to Jazz. He began to sing the same song as he did with Angela, but for some reason Jazz believed he wasn't putting on the same show as with Angela. Something was missing. Still, she was in the moment and enjoyed it. Angela came up and straddled Jazz's face. This was the first time Jazz had seen a pussy on another woman other than her own, and it was a beautiful sight. She used her index finger and her thumb to find this womans pebble sized clitoris and found it with her tongue. Jeremiah had instructed her on how to properly please a woman, and she found that with his instructions, she's a pro. Angela moved her hips to the beat of Jazz's tongue, her white waterfalls landing in Jazz's mouth, on her tongue, her lips. Jazz kissed and licked that pink button till she couldn't stand it anymore. It was the most powerful Jazz had ever felt.

Jeremiah, by this time, had entered Angela from behind, pounding into her, turning her quiet whimpers into screams of happiness. Fuck me, Jeremiah, fuck me, she yelled. Just the sight of two people doing naughty work in her face was enough to send multiple orgasms through Jazz's body. It was so intense she felt like she was being struck by lightning. Once Jeremiah pulled his rod out of Angela he placed it inside Jazz, who was on her back. He started pumping, not looking in her face, but at Angela, who was playing with herself. He was fucking her, not like he fucked her when they were alone, but like he had no choice because she was there. It was unreal. Jazz faked it for his sake but it was over too quick. He pulled out to push back into Angela to finish his business. After all was said and done, Jeremiah and Angela were like two lovebirds who just made sweet, passionate love. Jazz sat there cold, and alone. Is that how it's suppossed to happen? Until next time....

Monday, September 14, 2009

Jazz was sitting on the living room couch just staring out of the huge loft window, watching the bright lights of the city invite her into their world. It was a comfortable spot on the couch, the spot she sits in when she's in the mood for self-love, which is quite often. As a matter of fact, her right hand was gently placed on top of her left breast, her fingers running circles around the sensitive part of her nipple. This was quite comforting to Jazz, and she continued with her ritual, still staring out of the window. She breathed in, nice and easy, let it out, squeezing her breast.

Jazz was unaware of the little distractions going on around her. The grandfather clock in the hall ticking...tick...tock...tick...tock. The taxicabs on the streets around her building honking their horns. The bright twinkling stars in the night sky. The microwave that kept beeping every 30 seconds to let her know her food was ready. She was too engrossed in herself. Why have a man to "do his business" when you know what you want, and can give yourself what you want, she thought. Its the best of both worlds. By this time, Jazz and her fingers made their way to the sweetest center, moist and juicy from her self-love. A man would really appreciate her and what her body is telling her at this moment. She started to trace small circles around her pink mound, little flicks of her finger sending shots of pleasure to her spine, her hips slowly gyrating to her own beat. She licked her lips, moaned only so she could hear. One finger made its way into the eye that weeps most when best pleased, her breathing getting heavier and faster. A second finger made its way in, intensifying her desire to reach her peak.

Jazz's legs opened wider. Her pink button was on fire now, swelling up from the intense action Jazz knew so well. SHIT!!!! For a second Jazz thought she passed out, her body convulsing and shivering from her anticipated explosion. There were beads of sweat on her forehead, her breathing erratic. She needed a moment to gain her composure. Eyes open, she reached for a tissue on the table behind the couch to wipe the sweat. When she finally moved out of her favorite spot, she saw a pool of "wet" on her leather couch. Wow, she thought, I shot it out again. No man has ever brought her to that point. She was too tired and spent to think about why, so she just cleaned it up and decided to go out. I wonder what the city nightlife will bring me tonight, she thought. Until next time.....